


Snakes and Butterflies

by Dagonet (TsukikoCurrier)



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Animal Metaphors, Ficlet, Gen, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsukikoCurrier/pseuds/Dagonet
Summary: The one thing Eggsy hadn't expected when he became a Kingsman was how much bloody time he'd have tothink.Loads of time for useless thoughts to spin intricate webs in the spaces between the important ones.





	

          The one thing Eggsy hadn't expected when he became a Kingsman was how much bloody time he'd have to _think._  Waiting for a mark to show up, waiting for new intel, waiting for charges to blow; waiting, waiting, _waiting_ for a dragon egg to hatch, as one of Daisy's favourite books went. Loads of time for useless thoughts to spin intricate webs in the spaces between the important ones.  
  
          Eggsy'd always felt he was pretty aces at adapting. Changing when shite got to be too much and circumstances called for something new. Never enough that he wasn't _Eggsy_  anymore, but enough that he wasn't defined by who he had been.

          Posh twats like Charlie and Chester fucking King were exempt, of course, from that assessment.  
  
          He figured that, if he was gonna use animal metaphors, he'd make a pretty great snake. He shed his scales pretty regularly, left behind his mistakes, but all his scars and the fuckery that had changed him irrevocably (his dad's death, Dean's abuse, Harry's death, Killing Arthur, Harry being Not Dead, et cetera) remained behind.  
  
          Some scars just run too deep to leave behind you.  
  
          And don't let it be said that snakes don't have their uses- getting into places they shouldn't, being deceptively innocuous until the moment was _just right_ , pretty great instincts. All in all, there were worse things to compare himself to.  
  
          Like butterflies. Harry and his fucking plethora of butterflies that all but screamed 'I've had to change everything I was, but I still vaguely remember.' A kind of detachment from his past that Eggsy would never truly achieve. He assumed it came from privilege and time- the former of which Eggsy was only just achieving a modicum of, and the latter seemed like both too much and not enough.

          Harry probably had a weird story for every weird thing in his house, but somehow Eggsy doubted many of them held any emotional value.  
  
          Where Eggsy built himself through sentiment and attachment and practically crawling from the underbelly of society to where he was today, Harry had probably flitted about from blossoming opportunity to budding possibility with nary a thought to the journey between. To the circumstances that might lead another to the sloppy seconds he'd left behind him, like a flower already half drained of nectar.  
  
          But, Eggsy mused to himself while aligning his target, maybe that was okay. Not for everyone, and definitely not all the time, but detachment had its purpose- especially in their field of work.

          He exhaled, took his shot, and dismantled the gun in record time before heading to the rendezvous point.  
  
          Maybe he could take a few hints from butterflies- get himself some wings and make his snake a fucking _dragon._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me on tumblr at [AgentDagonet](http://www.agentdagonet.tumblr.com)


End file.
